I twist the napkin in my lap and smile back at Ian. “I wouldn’t know. Sorry.”
After dinner, we stroll down the quaint sidewalk. I’m feeling deflated, incredibly, horribly deflated. Not even the cute, brightly lit shops and Ian’s company can lift my spirits.
I’m only half listening to Ian as he’s talking about some big-name celebrity he knows that owns the house next to his when he cuts off and stops walking.
“Well, I’ll be,” he says.
I turn to look at what’s caught his attention.
And there, not twenty feet from us, walking down the sidewalk with a box of pizza in his hands, is Josh. He’s in scuffed jeans, an old winter coat, and sneakers, and if I didn’t know him I’d think he was the pizza delivery guy. He’s holding a cardboard pizza box in his arms and looking down at the sidewalk as he walks toward us. I hold my breath. I don’t want him to look up. I don’t want him to see me in my Audrey Hepburn-style dress holding Ian’s arm outside of an expensive la-di-da restaurant.
I really, really don’t want him to look up.
But of course, in life, things don’t always happen the way you want them to.
When he’s only a few feet away, Josh glances up from the snowy sidewalk. At first, I can tell, he doesn’t recognize us. He’s about to pass us by, like the strangers we could’ve been. That only lasts for a split second. As he’s passing he focuses on my face and suddenly, his eyes catch mine. And he realizes we aren’t strangers.
That it’s me.
With Ian.
At first Josh looks surprised and then maybe…uncomfortable? Upset?
He gives a hard swallow as he pauses in front of us. “Hey.”
My heart gives a hard thump.
I step away from Ian.
“Josh, hey. What’re you doing out here?” I give a bright smile, because the amount of tension that just sprang up around us is intense.
For a second, I don’t think he’s going to respond, but then he shakes himself and his old life’s-my-playground smile lights up his face.
“Hey, Gem. Ian. I’m just…”—he holds up the box of pizza—“getting some dinner. You know me and pizza.”
Oh.
Oh Josh.
Anyone else would’ve been fooled. I’m sure of it. I would’ve been fooled a month ago. Josh looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like life’s a lark and it’s no big deal running into me and Ian in our Valentine’s Day finest.
Ian chuckles, “Right. You never did appreciate the finer things.” He looks over at me and smiles, and I think, I think he’s talking about me. But that doesn’t actually make any sense.
Looking at Josh, I feel like the lowest, the jerkiest, the crappiest person.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask again.
Josh looks past us, like he wishes he were anywhere but standing outside a five-star restaurant holding a cardboard box of pizza. He turns back to me and gives me a light smile, “I thought I’d bring my dad out to see the beach. He was talking about how much he missed it. We used to come out here when I was a kid.”
Oh.
Oh no.
I almost can’t hold Josh’s gaze, because when I look beyond his smile, I can see that drawing of his dad, the one where Josh is telling you with pencil and ink that his dad is dying. And I can hear him say, “when he’s gone, no one will remember my first steps, my first drawings, and no one alive will mourn him like I do. I’ll be alone.”
Josh gives me a false, tight smile and to my shame, I look away.
“That’s nice,” Ian says. “I asked Gemma earlier how you’ve been. But it looks like you’ve landed on your feet. Dinner with your dad on Valentine’s. The universe has a way of giving us exactly what we deserve, doesn’t it?”
I look over at Ian in shock. I’ve never, ever known him to be cruel. But that was cruel.
Josh just gives a short nod, then starts to move past us, “Ian. Gemma, have a good night.” His voice is light, but I can hear the ache beneath the words.
There’s a big part of me, a huge part, that wants to grab Josh’s arm and ask him if I can come and join him and his dad for pizza and a walk on the snowy beach. But that would be intruding. Josh brought his dad out here for goodbye. That much is clear.
So I don’t say anything, except, “Have a good night.”
But as Josh passes us Ian calls after him, “We will. Trust me. I’ve never regretted the doing. Only the not doing.”
Josh’s back is turned but he pauses and I can see his shoulders stiffen. Then, slowly, he turns around. There isn’t amusement on his face anymore. In fact, this is probably the first time in my life that I’ve ever seen Josh look furious.